


Phosphenes

by fictionalrobin



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alec Lightwood Loves Magnus Bane, Experimental Style, Fluff, Good Boyfriend Alec Lightwood, I guess????, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Magnus Bane-centric, Poetry, Prose Poem, idrk which category this goes into, im in love with magnus so i wrote him a poem, more like i love him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 14:41:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18236273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalrobin/pseuds/fictionalrobin
Summary: the kalon that is Magnus Bane never ceases to amaze Alec





	Phosphenes

Magnus is a demon. 

He's a shadow among the most. Red horns peaking out beneath his hair and sharp teeth that can pierce Alec’s skin. He's full of ice and fire and sharp corners that cut if you cut corners with him. At night when the hour is darkest he levitates through the city like an omen. He is fierce and wild like a fire and like said fire he can’t and shan’t be tamed.  

He is the wild that bubbles beneath the blood of a wolf. Of a bear, of a tiger, of a dragon. The ever-present weight of a knife against your throat. The slight hint of metal in your mind when the blade pierces your skin.  

Lightning runs from him. Thunder is a whisper compared to him. Claws and teeth and fire and ice in a dark room. The sense of the unseen seeing you. Watching you from behind. From behind your closet door or from beneath as you sleep.  

At night is the time he fears him the most.  

 

Magnus is an angel.  

A beacon of love and light. His own private little thing to hold at dawn and kiss till dusk. A fresh breath of air. A flavour of gold and freshly picked oranges. Smiles that smell like butter. He is as soft as said butter, and Alec’s hands melt right through his flesh. Like sand when a wave washes across your hands, the ever-present feel of something warm touching your fingertips. The rest of a ring. The gleam of the sun right as it slips under the ocean surface. Soft glitter gently patted on by soft brushes and damp fingers. A humanoid breath so pure among the steam and smoke from factories that melt your skin off. 

Dark brown eyes and strawberry kisses. The book you loved the most as a young child. Warm summer nights in Italy and dry powdery silk sliding through your hair. 

At dawn is where he craves him the most 

 

Magnus is a human.  

He is whole and complete and smells of wood and extra blankets. He holds the roots of his own kind even if he is a slow descender. He let’s go. He dreams and feels and hears and speaks and Alec wants to hear it all. Magnus is there for it all. He is pancakes in the morning and being late for work. He is the simple of not being the beating of rain against an umbrella, or the umbrella, but rather being the one to hold it above Alec. To be the one in need of the umbrella and smiling when Alec grabs the handle next to his own hand.  

He bites his nails sometimes. He uses his own creams and oils that he makes with care and ease. With recipes and methods learned by hand. Learned by exploring. He touches each candle tip with his metal hat every night as to not burn his fragile home. His fragile heart. His strong hands. He eats food because he enjoys it and holds Alecs hand during a movie.

I n the afternoon is where he knows him the best 

  
  
  


Magnus is a  _ god.  _

 

And Alec prays to him every day and night. Constant promises. A touch he recognizes but does not see. A being of another capacity, too big, too  _ grand _ , for Alec to ever understand. A concept that has Alec gasping for breath and feel the love between them so physically, as if it had a body, with hair and skin and eyes, and ten fingers and an irregular breathing pattern. The figure that is the rest of gold around his finger. Is the shadow under his pillow and the chill along his cheek. He doesn’t understand and can’t explain.  

He is from another dimension. Not another time, for Magnus Bane is time and always will be space. He doesn’t exist and yet exists so purely and wholly, more than anything else. More than the birds and the fish and the flowers and the winds of Sahara and the statue of liberty and the pyramids of Egypt and all the hairs on the head of a single person. Of the touch of any other. Of the roof above his head and the ground beneath his feet. Of any memory and any story. Even if Alec is ever forgotten. If one day he can’t keep up with the spin of Magnus’s solar system and is blinded by his starlight until NASA disqualifies him as a planet and his grip slips away like the sandcastles at night.  

For in the end, when all is gone and Magnus has left, is where he loves him the most.  

**Author's Note:**

> Tried out a new style  
> Tell me what you think


End file.
